


First Impressions

by TallFreak7



Series: Texting [2]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Christmas Dinner, Established Relationship, F/M, Meeting the Parents, Older Man/Younger Woman
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-01
Updated: 2020-01-01
Packaged: 2021-02-27 05:27:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,577
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22071763
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TallFreak7/pseuds/TallFreak7
Summary: Sandor has been dating Arya for about half a year, and they were happy. But now it's Christmas time, which means it's time to meet the family, to his dread.----I've read a lot of stories where Sandor meets his significant other's family and it all goes swimmingly. The family is welcoming, Sandor is polite, and they all become one big happy family immediately.This is not one of those stories.
Relationships: Sandor Clegane/Arya Stark
Series: Texting [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1588699
Comments: 4
Kudos: 143





	First Impressions

**Author's Note:**

> Woo boy! This behemoth is finally complete. 10k words takes a long time to write, and I will (hopefully) never write single chapter/one-shot this long again. To all those who read the Texting story and was looking forward to more stories in that universe, this one is for you.

“I swear if I walk in there and everyone is dressed up.”

“Sandor, for the last time, no one will be wearing a tux.” Arya rolled her eyes and sighed as she exited her boyfriend’s truck. “Why would I even lie about that?”

Sandor's only response was a grunt. She wouldn’t, he knows this, but its either worry about that or worry about the inevitable shit storm that will begin once her parents see the monstrosity she’s brought to their door step.

Oh they’ll try to be polite, most people do, but for a half a second their faces will betray them. Disgust. Fear. Pity. Before he’s even said a word they’ll already have him filed away in their little heads as _Danger_ and _Monster_ and _Not Good Enough For Our Daughter_. That last one is what worries him. Not that he gives a fuck what they say, but then they’ll talk to Arya. They’ll take her aside, whisper in her ear lies or opinions that don’t mean shit but because they come from family they’ll have the weight of the world. And she’ll look at him, at what he is, and she’ll realize the truth. What’s been staring her in the face for months now. And then, slowly, her face will morph into the thing of nightmares; of his nightmares. Regret. It’ll radiate from her being with the strength of the sun, and it’ll burn him right to his soul.

“Sandor!”

Sandor blinked back to reality, still standing by his driver door. He looked over to see Arya, partway up the walkway to her parent’s front door looking at him with concern clearly written on her face.

“Hey, what’s up?” Arya called, walking back to him. He shook the thoughts from his head, he needed to focus. This night is important to Arya, and thus him, and he’s not going to ruin it before it even began.

“I’m fine.” Sandor lied, making his way around the vehicle to meet her half way.

“You know, I figured meeting their girlfriends’ parents for the first time would be really stressful for guys, but I never figured it’d warrant war flashbacks.” Arya tried to joke. By this point in their relationship Arya had learned, when it comes to something Sandor doesn’t want to share, that pushing him to open up has the exact opposite effect. Sometimes she just had to wait for him to feel ready to talk, and she’s okay with that. Most of the time. But she’s never seen him look so… she’s not even sure what expression he’s wearing. Miserable? Resigned? Afraid? Angry? All seemed accurate yet none of them came close to fitting it entirely. “Got any horror stories you wanna share?”

“Girl, you know you’re the only women who’s insane enough to bring this face home for dinner.” Sandor scoffed, trying to ignore the dark thoughts that had overwhelmed him.

“A textbook nutcase.” Arya agreed with a knock to her own head, eyes crossed and a blinding smile lighting up her face. Gods, he loved this woman.

Sandor smiled back at her (or his attempt at a smile, with what remained of the right side of his face). Taking this as a sign that the crisis has passed, she took his hand and began to lead him back up the path she started on.

This was an aspect of their relationship that took some adjusting to. Sandor wasn’t used to being touched. Beyond a pity-quickie from some drunk at a bar, most women (most people actually) had no interest in making eye contact with Sandor, let alone physical. As if the scars were contagious.

Arya had no such qualms. She seemed to always want to touch him; whether holding his hand, wrapping her arms around him, leaning on his shoulder, or sitting in his lap. He doesn’t know why. Doesn’t really care at this point, only thing he cares about is that she keeps doing it.

At the door, Sandor internally prepares for any reaction her parents might have.

_“Ahhhh! A zombie!”_

_“No ma’am, a regular human.”_

_“Ew, Arya what is that thing?”_

_“This thing is her boyfriend, Sandor. Nice to meet you, too.”_

_“Oh hello, you must be Sandor. Nice to meet you.”_

_…_

Okay maybe not all reactions.

“You ready?” Arya asked, trying to ignore her own nerves. While she talked a big game to Sandor, this was her family. Their reactions mattered. Them not accepting Sandor would hurt a lot, for the both of them. But she had an emergency backup plan in case all went wrong, a bit of a hail mary. Hopefully she wouldn’t need it.

“As ready as I’ll ever be.” Sandor nodded, before looking down at her with his eyes narrowed. “Last chance. Are there gonna be tuxes or not?”

“By the gods Sandor!” Arya groaned. “I promise you there will be no dresses, no suits, and especially no tuxes at this family dinner.”

At that moment the door in front of them swung open. And who greeted them on the other side, in all his charming glory, was her older brother Robb Stark.

Wearing a tux.

“Arya! You’re here!” Robb yelled, alerting the whole Stark horde to the new arrivals, before scooping his stunned sister into a hug.

“Robb, what the fuck!?“Arya yelled, forcibly removing herself from her brother’s arms before turning to Sandor. “Listen Sandor, this isn’t what it--“

“Arya! So glad you could make it!” Came the far too cheerful voice of her sister, auburn hair waving behind Sansa as she came around the corner to meet them. Wearing a very fancy dress.

“Oh for fucks sake.” Arya barely got out before both siblings ambushed her into a group hug.

Sandor, for his part, just stared at the antics in front of him. So it was a prank after all. He had to admit, Arya can really act. Why the fuck she’d pull something like this right now he couldn’t guess. He focused on pushing down his irritation, best to not blast Arya with it in front of her whole family when they’re already gonna hate him. And it was too late to leave, he might be a brute and old and ugly or whatever other label they were gonna slap him with, best not to get ‘coward’ added to the list. So he’d just have to deal with the looks from the rest of her family as he strode in wearing a leather jacket, a long sleeve shirt, and dark jeans while they all looked like they were ready to go to the fucking Oscars or some other poncy event.

With a force disproportional to her size, Arya wrestled her way out of her sibling’s arms and quickly turned to Sandor in a panic, guessing already the, admittedly reasonable, conclusions he had jumped to. “Sandor, listen! These two are just assholes.”

“Hey!” Robb feigned offence.

“Now that’s not a very nice things to say Arya.” Came a calm, motherly voice from beyond her siblings, interrupting her panicked explanation. Arya closed her eyes and begged whatever god is laughing their ass off at this display to know when a joke has run its course.

Gently pushing her way through her children came a woman who looked almost exactly like Sansa if she was around 30 years older. A lovely creature to say the least, her auburn hair slightly darker than her daughters with streaks of grey, yet her skin was just as pale and her eyes just as blue. Her and Arya seemed to bear little resemblance, in all manners except the most important.

She was wearing a simple sweater and jeans. Completely casual, causing both Arya and Sandor to breathe a sigh of relief. Sandor’s internal, Arya’s external.

“It’s the truth Mom, I mean look at what they’re wearing! They were trying to freak Sandor out by wearing these stupid fancy clothes.” Arya retorted, pointing her finger accusingly at both her siblings who were trying to make the most innocent faces they could.

Catelyn looked sharply at the fancy Stark children, thought it lacked any actual heat. “Oh you two, stop torturing this poor man.” Catelyn Stark admonished, the first one of them to even acknowledge Sandor’s existence he noticed, before meeting his eyes.

Or at least she tried, but turns out all that poise couldn’t stop the split second of shock that blanketed her face. Sandor did wonder if Arya might have sent her family a photo of him, to help get their initial reactions out of the way where he couldn’t see them. Guess not. Better this way; if they’re disgusted, he wants to see it. Makes it easier to gauge people.

Arya, on her part, was beginning to regret not preparing her family ahead of time.

Quickly recovering, Catelyn offered her hand to Sandor and gave him a tight smile. “Hello, you must be Sandor, my name is Catelyn Stark. It is so nice to finally meet you.”

He took her hand in is, noting the way it almost vanished in his meaty paw, and shook it as gently as he could. He’s not sure if he could actually break her hand or not, but no need to risk starting the night out with a hospital visit. “Catelyn.”

No need to lie and say it’s nice to meet them. He hates liars.

Catelyn smile seemed to get even tighter at his response, or lack thereof, probably expecting Arya’s boyfriend to be a bit more energetic like her. She was also probably wondering what fucking black magic this ugly son of a bitch pulled off to get with her daughter. He’s been trying to figure that out himself for months.

Releasing his hand, Catelyn gestured to the two other Stark children. “Would you two introduce yourself already, he is Arya’s boyfriend and it would be best to get to know him.” That last part felt like it was directed more at herself then them.

He’s not sure why they ignored him until now, maybe in an attempt to give Arya’s new guy a hard time or maybe they were so focused on seeing their sister they forgot he was there. Either way, their reactions on finally looking at him would have been comedic in their difference if it wasn’t his face they were reacting to.

Robb wasn’t any better at hiding his shock then his mother was, but he still offered his hand to shake. “Robb, Robb Stark. Arya’s older brother.” The smile Robb wore looked more genuine then his mother’s but felt just as fake. A charming grin he probably hit a lot of women with to score some points, but unfortunately did nothing in the face of the 6`6`` creature known as Sandor Clegane. Sandor took the offered hand to shake, ignoring the force Robb was putting into his grip that was no doubt meant to be intimidating, and nodded in response. The whole time Robs’ eyes were roaming over the hellscape that made up the right side of his face. But at least he was actually looking at Sandor’s face.

Sansa on the other hand somehow seemed to get even paler, to the point Sandor worried she might even faint. Which would make this night memorable, if nothing else. She unfortunately was not as well versed in hiding her feelings as her mother, her abject horror and pity shining from her face like a fucking spotlight. “Sansa Stark.” Seemingly not even wishing to attempt to meet his eyes anymore, her quiet greeting was said to his chest. He nodded again, knowing she couldn’t see it but not wishing to give her more of a greeting then she deserved.

“Oh what are we all doing standing in the cold? Come in, come in, the rest of the family is in the living room.” Catelyn gestured them all inside before walking off to presumedly the same living room she just mentioned, probably under the assumption they would all follow her. Sansa did, quite quickly Sandor noticed, likely fleeing his presence. Sandor shut and locked the door behind him, which earned him a look from Robb. Might be considered overstepping his boundaries as a guest, but if he, or more importantly Arya, is going to be in this house then he wants as much between any threats and them as he can get.

Arya glared at her older brother, partly from their “prank”, partly for their reactions, and partly just to delay the inevitable. So far three out of the seven of her family had failed pretty hard at the “Sandor Test”, and she wasn’t really looking forward to the results for the rest of them. Her earlier optimism, however forced it was, was struggling to maintain its footing when not a single family member so far could even maintain eye contact with her boyfriend. “That wasn’t funny at all. Really, a tux?” She looked pointedly at his choice of clothing. She knew the prank was more directed at Sandor then her, making it even worse.

“Oh I disagree dear sister, the look on both of your faces was priceless.” Robb answered in stride. Which was a lie, he hadn’t even glanced at Sandor. “You can leave your coat in the closet right there.” Robb pointed past Sandor’s shoulder to the hallway door before following the path his sister and mother took. Arya looked at Sandor and sighed, he had on his blank face again. He said it came from his time in security, better to keep the enemies on their toes if they had no idea what he was thinking, but he carried it with him long after he left. She hadn’t seen it in a long time. He met her sigh with a look and a raise of his good eyebrow.

“Well, that could’ve gone better.” Arya admitted, shrugging off her coat.

Sandor shrugged. “Could’ve gone worse.” He removed his coat and took hers as well, hanging them both up in the hallway closet.

“I don’t see how. Not a single one of them even looked you in the eye.” Arya started, heat beginning to blead into her voice. “I mean did you see Sansa, she looked like she saw the Stranger himself!”

“Calm down wolf girl, best not to get heated up over it yet. We still got lots of family to meet.” Sandor muttered, partly to her and partly to himself.

“Hey.” Arya put her hand on his arm, drawing his eyes to hers. “You okay so far? We can leave, I wouldn’t blame you.”

Sandor looked into her eyes, grey on grey, and covered her hand with his. He really wanted to take her up on her offer, to say fuck all this shit and drag her back to his place where he won’t have to deal with all these stares, all these looks, like he was some side show attraction. But he also knew he needed to get this done. This is Arya’s family and, despite what she might say, if he doesn’t at least try to connect with them she’ll be devastated.

Now whether they decide to reciprocate his attempt is up to them.

“I’m fine. Dealt with worse. Besides, we’ve already started, might as well get this all over with now.” Sandor attempted to sound reassuring, but he probably just sounded resigned.

Arya leaned her forehead into his chest and sighed. “Yeah, you’re right.” She grumbled, but then quickly sprang back from him with a big smile on her face. “Oooo, I got an idea.”

Sandor never liked to smile. With his face it never looked right, always leaning more towards a grimace or a leer. He never had much need to even attempt the expression anyway. That was until he met Arya. She, for some reason he has yet to wrap his head around, actually enjoyed when he smiled and seemed to make it her mission to drag one out of him. He stopped even trying to resist it at this point. “Oh yeah, what’s that?”

Arya grinned. “A secret signal.”

“A… secret signal?” Sandor slowly repeated. Sometimes she could still throw him for a loop.

“Yup, you give the secret signal and I’ll fake being sick.” Arya grinned. “I’m really good at it, my parents never once caught me growing up.”

“How many times did you do that?”

“A lot.”

“How did you end up getting into college again?”

“Because I’m fucking smart. Anyway, that’s not what’s important here. You give the signal, I fake being sick, we fucking blow this popsicle stand. Deal?”

Sandor laughed, he had to. A fucking signal, what is this, Oceans Eleven? “Deal little wolf.”

Arya smiled in triumph. “Great, so this is gonna be the signal.” She then scratched under her chin, against the grain, three times. “Alright, you do it.” She looked at him expectantly.

Sandor eyebrows raised, suddenly realizing this was not a joke. “Wait, you’re actually serious.”

Arya looked at him like he just spoke French. “Uh, yeah. Of course I’m serious. Now come on, do the signal so I know what to look for.” She gestured impatiently.

Sandor rolled his eyes and began to corral her towards the direction her family went. “No signals girl, we’re just gonna have to deal with this.”

Arya rolled her eyes in return but didn’t resist. “Fine, but I’m keeping my eyes open.”

“You do that.”

___________________

The living room was abuzz with noise. People were talking, Christmas music was playing, the TV was blaring sounds from some video game a couple of people seemed to be focusing on. Stood behind the couch was Robb, his suit standing out amongst the other’s normal, albeit festive, clothing. The boy playing the game sat on the couch in front of Robb. He looked young, probably no older than 15 or so, with a head of curly brown hair. Rickon, Sandor guessed. Next to him sat a boy with a calm face and longer hair similar to their mothers who must be Bran. Standing next to Robb was a man with long dark hair and sullen face who would be Jon if Sandor remembered correctly.

On the other side of the room, seated within the middle of a large L couch sat the obvious patriarch and matriarch, the maturity apparent on their face and the general air around them. Around them sat three women, one of which was Sansa, but the other two Sandor couldn’t remember Arya telling him about. One had long wild ginger hair, while the other had shorter more gently curled brown locks. Both were pretty enough. Based on their not subtle glances towards the men at the TV, Sandor guessed they must be some people’s girlfriend. _Or wife_ , Sandor amended, when he spotted the ring on the brown hair women’s hand.

Their entrance into the room did not go unnoticed, unfortunately. Arya’s father himself spotted them, and stood up from his seat with a smile on his face and arms outstretched to welcome the new guest and his youngest daughter.

A smile that was fighting a lot harder to stay strong once he got a look at Sandor’s face. But, to his credit, it stayed on.

His steps did falter a tad.

“Arya! How’s my little girl?” Her father, Ned Stark, asked as he swept said little girl up into a hug. Arya didn’t fight it like she did against her siblings.

“I’m doing great Dad, Merry Christmas.” Arya greeted in return, a small laugh playing on her lips. Detangling herself from her father she returned her hand to Sandor’s.

_Here we go_. Arya and Sandor thought in sync.

“Dad, this is Sandor Clegane. _My_ _boyfriend_.” Arya introduced, gesturing to Sandor with her free hand, putting emphasis on the title in the hopes it would convey how non-negotiable the relationship was. A vain effort, Arya knew.

“Ah, so this is the man! She’s told us a lot about you.” Ned offered his hand, his eyes focused entirely on his nose. Which was close enough to his eyes. Best reaction he’s received all night.

Sandor took the offered hand, noting the completely normal amount of strength used on Ned’s part. Which either meant he was smart enough to know it was useless, or welcoming enough to not feel the need. Either way, a plus in Sandor’s eyes.

“Nice to meet you.” Sandor returned, close enough to meaning it.

“And you as well.” Ned released his hand and turned to gesture at the members on the couch. “This beautiful creature I’m sure you’ve already met is my wife, Catelyn.”

“Oh Ned, stop it.” Catelyn admonished with a laugh.

“Never.” Ned winked at his wife. Arya rolled her eyes at her parents antics.

Next, he gestured to the red head. “This is Ygritte, Jon’s girlfriend.”

“Hey.” Ygritte waves, actually meeting Sandor’s eyes.

_Hey, two in a row. Not bad. Can we get a third?_

Finally, Ned gestured to the brown-haired women. “And this is Jeyne, Robb’s wife.”

“A pleasure.” Jeyne waved as well, but took a page from Sansa’s book and opted to look at Sandor’s chest.

_Guess not._

Sandor nodded at each one in turn.

“And those men over there.” Ned gestured to the couch where the male starks seemed to have all gravitated towards. “Are my sons. On the couch is Rickon and Bran, standing behind them is Robb and Jon.” Ned pointed each son out in turn, confirming Sandor’s assumptions. “Boys, can’t you put that thing down so you can greet our new guest.” Ned raised his voice to be heard over the carnage on screen.

Arya noticed he didn’t acknowledge that her boyfriend was said new guest, making sure to do it herself. “Yeah come on guys, at least say ‘Hi’ to my boyfriend before getting lost in your own world.” Arya announced loud enough to make sure everyone in the room heard it.

“Yeah yeah yeah, after this level.” Rickon yelled back, not even bothering to turn around. The other boy simply nodded their head in agreement.

Ned rolled his eyes and smiled apologetically at Sandor. “Sorry about them, it’s basically impossible to get them off that.”

“It’s fine.” Sandor grunted. The less people to talk to at once the better.

“Well come on then, take a seat and tell us about yourself.” Ned gestured to the center of the couch. Ygritte, Jayne, and Sansa, seeing what was coming a mile away, decided to flee to the safety of the other family members.

Sandor nodded and took a seat, right in the center of the L. Arya took the seat to his right and began to gently stroke the back of his hand. Sandor wasn’t sure if she was conscious of it but it was comforting nonetheless, was probably going to be the only source of comfort he got in this conversation.

Ned took the seat to Catelyn’s right, placing him right next to Sandor. “So, Sandor, tell us about yourself!” Ned encouraged.

Sandor shrugged. “Not much to tell, I work as a contractor at B.W.B-“

“Brotherhood without Banners? That’s that construction company isn’t it?” Ned interrupted.

“Yup.” Sandor nodded.

“Have you always worked construction?” Interjected Catelyn.

“No, used to work security for the Baratheon’s.”

“Baratheon’s?!” Ned laughed and clapped Sandor on the shoulder. “Small world, Robert’s my best friend. Though I don’t remember seeing you when I would visit.”

“I mostly just guarded his son.”

“Ah.” Ned nodded understandingly. “Joffrey. Yes, he tended to not come around when I was there. Pity.” He lied. “How long did you work for them?”

“About 10 years or so.”

Catelyn frowned.

_Guess this bombshell is dropping sooner rather than later._

“How old did you say you were?” Catelyn asked, even though Sandor never said. Arya tightened her grip on his hand.

Sandor sighed, lighting the fuse. “36.”

Sandor could see the moment Catelyn did the math in her head, her eyes widening just a tad before she schooled her features back under control. Not noticeable to most, but Sandor notices a lot more than most. Partly from his time in security, partly from growing up with his face. He learned from an early age how to read people and their reactions, helped him know who’s worth talking to and who isn’t.

Ned seemed confused at his wives’ question at first before he made the connection himself. His eyes widening a tad and flicking between Arya and her new man.

The fuse was burning, the only question was where the bomb was going to blow: out in the open or behind closed doors.

“Would you excuse me? I have to go check on something in the kitchen.” Catelyn stood up, a tight smile painted on her lips.

“I’ll help.” Ned offered, mirroring his wives’ expression.

Catelyn turned to Arya. “Arya, we could use your help as well. Come with us?” It was more of a command then a question.

Arya sighed. She knew that tone, and she also knew there was no use fighting it. Squeezing Sandor’s hand, she nodded. “Sure Mom, I’ll be right there.”

Catelyn nodded and strolled from the room with Ned into a hallway that Sandor assumed led to the kitchen.

Arya deflated into his shoulder. “Ugh, I knew she would do that. I just didn’t expect it to be so early in the night.” She grumbled.

Sandor rubbed her knee soothingly. “I didn’t expect the age thing to come up before dinner.” Sandor muttered into her hair.

“I gotta go in there.”

“Want me to come with?”

“You heard my Mom; she just wants _me_ to help. Probably gonna rail into me about how old you are or something.”

“I don’t care, I’ll go in anyway.”

“No, I appreciate it but it’ll probably just cause even more issues.” Arya sighed and made to stand, but Sandor kept his grip on her hand.

“You sure you’ll be safe in there?” Sandor asked, concern written clearly on his face.

Arya raised a brow in confusion. “Safe? Sandor, it’s just my parents.” When Sandor didn’t release her or drop the concerned look Arya rolled her eyes. “I’ll be fine, trust me.” Smiling with more optimism then she felt, she leaned down and gave Sandor a peck on the lips. And then a few more. Her final one she marked with a request of “Play nice with my siblings.” Before she walked off, following the path of her parents, which he irrationally didn’t like.

Sandor’s protective, over-protective Arya would probably say but he doesn’t care. He only has one good thing in his life and he’ll protect it with all he has. He remembered what happened the last time he didn’t, and he’ll be damned if it ever happens to Arya. Her leaving to some unknown part of this unknown house with these unknown people sets off every alarm he has. But this place is known to her; the kitchen she grew up in, the house she grew up in, the people she grew up with. So, Sandor will just have to trust her.

But his ears will be open. If he hears anything down that hallway, he’s going after her.

And god helps anyone who might have caused her harm.

Sandor was suddenly alone on the couch, giving him the first hint of breathing room he’s had since walking into this house.

Which lasted a total of 10 seconds before the other members flanked him on both sides of the couch.

“So, Sandor.” Robb began, wrapping an arm around Jeyne as she perched on his lap. “We would give you the whole “hurt our sister and we’ll hurt you” speech but I’m pretty sure you could take everyone in this room simultaneously without breaking a sweat.”

_Probably._

“So instead we’ll use ol’ reliable: What are your intentions with our sister?”

Sandor groaned internally. He knew the question was coming, he just expected it from their father if anyone. “My intentions are to date her long enough that she’ll want to marry me, then marry her.” Sandor answered bluntly. He didn’t have much else planned beside that.

“Well what if she was ready now?” Ygritte prodded.

“Then I’d marry her now.”

“What if she’s doesn’t want to get married?” Sansa asked. Sandor tried not to take it as the dig it was probably intended to be.

“Then I guess we won’t get married.” Sandor shrugged. He doesn’t really care what they do, as long as she’s his and he’s hers, he’ll be happy.

“So, if I’m getting this correctly, your intentions are to just… be with Arya?” Jon asked.

Sandor confirmed with a grunt and nod.

“Hm, simple but straight forward. Not bad. I’ve heard worst answers to that one.” Robb commended Sandor with a clap on the shoulder.

“It was better than the one you gave my father.” Jeyne offered with a laugh.

“I was nervous!” Robb fake pouted.

“Ooo, this sounds juicy. What did he say?” Ygritte prodded.

“Oh no you don’t.” Robb interjected. Jeyne only giggled.

“So, I overheard that you were a security guard for the Baratheons, isn’t that right?” Bran asked, abruptly changing the subject, his eyes holding strong to Sandor’s. “Something about Joffrey?”

“Oh Joffrey! Hey Sansa didn’t you have a crush on that guy when we were younger?” Robb nudged Sansa before Sandor could even answer.

“Ugh, don’t remind me.” Sansa shuddered. “Guy’s a serious prick.”

“True.” Sandor confirmed.

“So, security. Have you killed anyone?” Rickon asked, face completely devoid of all humor. Or of any reaction to Sandor’s face.

Ygritte interrupted before Sandor could confirm or deny. “Rickon! Don’t ask him that.”

“What? It’s a reasonable question!” Rickon defended himself.

Over the siblings quibbling Sandor heard a crash followed by a yelp come from the hallway leading to the kitchen.

The hallway Arya went down.

“Hey, did you all hear—” Jon began.

Sandor was sprinting down the hallway before the question was even finished.

___________________

**_10 minutes earlier_ **

Arya took a deep breath as she walked towards the kitchen. She knew what was coming. Had known it would happen since she started dating Sandor. She had prepared for this inevitable fight for a long time now, long before tonight.

The only thing left was to hope her parents could be reasonable.

Entering the kitchen, Arya could see her parents standing next to each other on the other side of the island, arms crossed and faces stern.

_Not a good start._

“We need to talk.” Catelyn declared emphatically.

“About what?” Arya asked, arms crossed. They want to be coy? Well she’s happy to follow along.

“You know what. That man you brought to our home.” Catelyn scoffed.

“ _That man_? Sorry don’t know anyone by that name.” Arya mocked.

“Young lady.” Ned warned.

“Don’t ‘young lady’ me.” Arya fired back. “You have a problem with something, then say it.”

“Fine.” Catelyn said, shoulders tense, eyes ablaze. “Sandor Clegane, why are you dating a man like that?”

“Because I love him.” Arya said offhandedly, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. Which it was, at least to her.

“But why?” Catelyn asked, exasperated.

“Does it matter? I just do.” She wasn’t about to put her feelings out on display to be poked and prodded at by her parents. “Better question is why you seem to have such a problem with it?”

“What don’t we have a problem with? He’s 15 _years_ older than you! He’s almost twice your size. And with that face—”

“Hey, watch it.” Arya warned.

“Oh, please Arya, you must admit it is not a pretty thing to look at--”

“Wait.” Ned spoke up, interrupting his wife’s tirade. “Clegane. I’ve heard that name before.”

_Fuck._

Ned stared at the floor, deep in thought. Arya was tense, hoping beyond hope he wouldn’t make the right connection. Then his eyes widened, and he said quietly. “Gregor Clegane.”

Catelyn gasped.

Arya deflated.

“Gregor Clegane, a menace to society.” Her father spoke quietly to the floor. “Murdered 10 people over the span of 2 years. Before that was rape, drug smuggling, and assault. Nobody could stop him. Finally turned on the wrong group of people and he was found face down on the side—”

“Yes Dad, I know who he is.” Arya interrupted.

Ned finally looked at Arya, and his eyes were hard. “He had a brother.”

Arya sighed. No point lying about it, he had obviously already made the connection. “Yeah, Sandor.”

Catelyn gasped again, turning back to her daughter with an almost pleading look. “Oh Arya, absolutely not! You can’t be with a man like that, he’s almost twice your size. If he turns out like his brother—”

“Don’t you dare compare Sandor to that monster!” Arya yelled, silencing both her parents. “Sandor is _not_ his brother, he’s funny and smart and he cares about me. He would never hurt me, _ever_!”

Arya breathed through her nose, trying to calm her rage. Yelling wasn’t going to get them anywhere, but the way her parents felt they could have a say in every part of her life always got to her. They always said they just wanted what was best for her, but it was really all to push her towards things _they_ felt were right for her.

“Listen.” Arya began, calmer this time. “I didn’t come here asking permission. I’m dating Sandor, no matter what you two have to say about it. So you’ll just have to learn to live with it. It’s either that, or he doesn’t come to family stuff.”

“That sounds alright with me.” Catelyn muttered.

“But,” Arya continued, ignoring her mother’s interruption. “Know this, we’re a package deal now. So, if he doesn’t’ come, I don’t come.”

This was her plan, her hail mary. She knows her parents, they love their children and would do anything to spend more time with them. She just hoped it would be more important than dealing with their less then “ideal” significant others.

Her parents went silent in thought, eyes searching hers for any signs of dishonestly. There was none to be found, Arya meant it 100%. Going to family events and seeing all her other siblings with their lovers, knowing she couldn’t do the same with Sandor, would be torturous. She’d much rather stay home, with him, then suffer through that.

Catelyn sighed, eyes resigned, and shook her head. “There is no need for that. While I cannot say I understand your infatuation with him, if you are willing to do that then I can tell you truly love him. And he loves you, yes?”

“Yes.” Arya answered without hesitation.

“Well, then I guess that is all that matters.” Catelyn acquiesced, albeit reluctantly.

Ned nodded, but his eyes were serious as they met Arya’s again. “Just, promise us if something happens, you’ll tell us okay? We’re your parents, it’s our job to worry about you, no matter who you date.”

“Yes Dad, I promise. But you don’t have to worry about Sandor.” Arya smiled thinking about him, and how he was probably being bombarded with the full force of the Stark siblings. “He’s a great guy, I’m lucky to have him.”

“Well.” Catelyn clapped, clearing out the serious air of the room. “I did not lie about needing your help.” Catelyn turned to the counter behind her where various food stuffs sat. “Could you get the pudding out of the fridge for me dear?”

“Sure.” Arya agreed, glad that the worst of the night was over and they could all finally focus on just spending time with each other, before walking over to open the fridge.

The fridge in the Stark home was legendary amongst the children. Ever since they were young the door had always been way too heavy. To the point that they regularly had to request their father’s help to open it. Once they got older, though, they could do it on their own, but it required far more force then normal. This was just a fact everyone got used to, to the point that they don’t even think about it whenever they visit their parents. But, unbeknownst to all their children, the Stark parents had replaced that fridge. The new one looked very similar to old one, the differences only being noticeable to those who knew what to look for. But there was one very important difference; the door was far lighter than the former’s. Only requiring a normal amount of force to open. This would normally be considered a good change, and one Arya would say had taken them far too long to do. Unfortunately, Arya would not be told this until after she first opened it.

Which would explain why, as she pulled the fridge door with the same amount of force as she was used to using, the door came loose far easier than she was ready for, leading her to slam her hand, full force, back into her own face.

“Fuck!” Arya exclaimed, holding a hand to her fridge battered face.

“Oh my goodness, dear are you alright?” Catelyn fawned over her daughter, moving Arya’s hand away from her face to check the damage and frowning when she saw her bottom lip had begun to bleed. “I am so sorry, I meant to warn you the fridge is new and much lighter than the old one.”

“Yeah, I noticed.” Arya muttered.

“Come on, take a seat and I’ll go get the first aid.” Ned corralled her over to a seat at the island, before moving towards the bathroom.

Arya groaned. That meant rubbing alcohol. She hated that stuff, especially when her dad used it. He always drenched the rag, making her head hurt more from the fumes then whatever pain she was in.

Returning with alcohol and towel in hand, soaked through as she knew it would be, her father attempted to brush at her cut lip.

“Ugh, god. Seriously Dad why do you drench it every time?” Arya exclaimed, leaning away from her father’s alcohol filled hand.

“It’s not like it matters, it will all dry out anyway. Now stop moving.” Ned admonished, trying to grab onto Arya’s chin to cease her fleeing but accidently touching her split lip leading to her leaning away even further.

“How many times do I have to tell you that is not how it works—”

Arya rebuttal was cut short by the world beginning to tilt.

There is another legendary item within the Stark household, though it didn’t start that way. It used to be a completely normal chair, until an “accident” involving Robb, Jon, Arya, and all the sheets in the house fashioned into a makeshift parachute. After the chair’s less then gentle fall the children worked to reattached the legs that had fractured into pieces. They were mostly successful, it looked almost the same, but ever since the chair had not had the balance it once did. Her parents, instead of throwing the chair away or getting a new set, decided to instead just swap the chair for an extra from the few they stored in the basement. And that is where it would have stayed, but over the years of parties and family gatherings where they needed the extra seating the chairs have swapped between the kitchen and the basement so many times no one remembered which one was which. Which is how _the_ chair found its way into the kitchen that night for Arya herself to sit on.

It is also how she found herself hurtling towards the floor, the extreme angle at which she leaned away from her father’s alcohol fumed assault too much for the old beaten up seat.

Arya crashed to the floor with a yelp. “Fuck!”

“Arya! Are you okay?” Catelyn gasped, leaning over the island to get a look at her.

“She’s fine Cat. Just a small fall.” Ned shook his head, standing over Arya. “We need to get rid of this chair.”

“Like, yesterday.” Arya agreed. Then suddenly there was a pounding coming down the hall, like a heard of elephants.

Bursting around the corner came Sandor, eyes wide and darting all over the room, breath coming quick. Arya was immediately on red alert; she’d never seen Sandor look so panicked before. Then his eyes landed on her, and the panic on his face washed away. His jaw tightened, his hands clenched, his eyes, which are normally a steel grey, seemed to blacken with rage, and from his throat came a sound damn near close to a growl. But the anger was not directed at her. Ned Stark, her father, the patriarch of the Stark household, was on the receiving end of this deep, deep hatred.

Arya’s mind kicked into overdrive, sensing the catastrophe that was about to occur, trying to figure out what could draw out such fury from her man. _Sandor heard me cry out in pain, and he comes in here to see my lip bleeding, on the floor, while my Dad is standing over me._

_Oh shit._

“Sandor, wai—”

But it is too late. Sandor, who is much more agile than people would expect, is already across the room.

And his fist has already made contact with Ned Stark’s face, hard, sending him to the floor as an unconscious heap. TKO.

The room is silent for what feels like hours, but it is at most a couple of seconds, before Catelyn screams. A scream of murder, a scream of fear, a scream of a women who just saw her husband get completely knocked out in one punch by a 6-and-a-half-foot tall man whose arms are thicker than her head.

Arya scrambled to her feet in a panic. “Sandor! What the fuck did you do?!”

Sandor turns to her, face drenched in concern. “Are you okay?”

“No I’m not fucking okay, you just knocked out my Dad!” Arya gestured to the sleeping form of her father that her mother was currently trying to wake up. “What the fuck?!”

Sandor frowned, eyes flicking between her and her father. “I thought---”

Before Sandor could complete his explanation the rest of the Stark family crashed into the kitchen, answering their mother’s howl like the pack they were. Only to have their eyes land on their unconscious father, and the strange man that Arya brought home standing over him.

Robb was the first to move, hands clenched in fury. “You! Did you do this?!” Robb demanded, making a beeline right for Sandor.

Arya jumped in between them. Mostly for Robb’s benefit, she didn’t want to see another family member get their lights knocked out by Sandor. One per lifetime was enough for her. “Robb, stop!”

“Stop? Our Dad is on the floor out cold because of this man and you want me to stop.” Robb yelled in disbelief, jumping to (admittedly correct) conclusions.

“I’m calling 911.” Catelyn announced with a sob, as Sansa and Ygritte tried their best to comfort her, her hands shaking as they reached for her phone.

“Mom! Don’t, please!” Arya whipped around to grab the phone. “Just wait a minute.”

“I knew this would happen! I warned you Arya now look what happened to your father, all because you let that brute into our home.” Catelyn wailed. Bran and Rickon, looking at Sandor in obvious anger, focused on trying to rouse their father while Jon tried his best to hold Robb back, though his eyes hid none of the hate that was directed at Sandor.

“You need to leave Sandor.” Robb said, eyes locked on Sandor’s for probably the first time that night, hatred lining each word. There was a chorus of agreements from the others in the room,

Sandor face was blank, no emotion apparent to anyone who didn’t know him well. But Arya did know him, and she could sense it, could see it in the way his eyes were staring at her father, how his hands were clenched, how his shoulders were tight. Shame. Sandor was ashamed of what he had done. But when he met her eyes all he did was smile, a small apologetic smile, before turning and fleeing out the back door.

___________________

It was a beautiful winter night. The stars were out, snow was falling gently, and the world was quiet. And on this night, in the Stark backyard, sat a large tree. This tree had been used for a lot by the Stark family over the years, but ever since the children had grown out of using the rope swing that had previously been installed within it’s branches, Ned had decided to place a swinging bench underneath. A perfect place for someone to read on a sunny summer day, or to relax with their wife, or to catch a nap even.

Or, in Sandor’s case, to reflect on all the choices that had led to him knocking out his girlfriend’s Dad.

He knew it would happen. Not _that_ specifically but he knew something would go wrong tonight. He just didn’t expect it to be him that fucked it all up. But he probably should have known, it’s always been said that Clegane men are trouble. His father was a drunk, his brother was a monster, and Sandor fought his whole life to not be like them. But he’s not naive, he knows he isn’t a good person. Hell, if someone were to have seen him in the first few years after he left home, they’d probably think he _was_ his brother. Not that he ever raped or murdered anyone. But he was just as violent otherwise. Sandor thought he put all that behind him after all these years. He thought he could move on, not be “happy” per say, but at least not be a fucking walking time bomb like he used to be, blowing up at anyone who even looked at him funny. Which happened at lot with his mug.

Then he met Arya, and everything fucking changed.

She was beautiful, funny, spunky, energetic, really Sandor doesn’t have enough words in his vocabulary to describe this being that had decided, despite all reason, to be in his life. And for the first time in years he was actually happy. Really happy. Fucking stupid levels of happy, and she was the source. She was the sole source of light in the dark abyss of his life. Despite his flaws, his massive glaring flaws, she loved him anyway. And he knew he would protect that, protect her, with everything he had.

Which is how he found himself alone on Christmas Eve, sitting under a tree with his head in his hands, as the snow softly fell around him, regretting ever getting his fucked-up life tangled up with hers.

Sandor had no idea what was going on inside that house right now, as far away as he was. He didn’t like leaving her all alone in there, but he had a feeling if he wouldn’t have left he would have had to fight off every other person in that room. And wouldn’t that have been the cherry on top of this shit sundae of a night? But now she’s all alone in there, probably having a screaming match with her family. Over him.

Or maybe not, maybe Arya agrees with them, that it was a mistake to bring him here, to even date him in the first place. He wouldn’t fucking blame her if she was. Sandor just proved all of them right, he was a brute, he was dangerous. She’ll probably break up with him as soon as she sees him. Then Sandor will go back to his empty apartment that he’ll have to move out of as soon as possible as it’ll be filled with far too many memories of her then he’ll be able to stomach. Not that the memories of her will ever fade, she’ll haunt his dreams and thoughts until he’s six feet under.

“Sandor.”

Ripped from his thoughts, Sandor looked up to see Arya standing a few feet away, arms wrapped around herself to stave off the cold of the night.

“Hey.” Arya greeted, a small hesitant smile on her way-to-pretty-to-want-to-be-with-a-man-like-him face. “I finally got my family to calm down, my brothers carried my Dad to the living room.” She explained quietly as she slowly stepped towards Sandor. Like he was a startled animal. Which he guessed he was.

“He okay?” Sandor asked.

“He’s fine, he just woke up before I came out to find you. Nasty black eye though, guess I know who to bet on in the Stark annual fight club.”

Sandor didn’t laugh, he didn’t have the heart to laugh when his heart was already breaking just by looking at her. She hadn’t even broken up with him yet and it already hurt, it made him want to run, to just say fuck it and get the hell away from there and never talk to her again. Save them both the effort. But he also knew he wouldn’t. He needed this chapter shut off, definitively, and the only way was to hear the rejection in person. No matter how much it’ll hurt.

“Hey.” Arya spoke again, much closer this time. Sandor opened his eyes, not even realizing he had closed them in the first place, to see her less than a foot away. “What happened in there?”

He didn’t want to tell her. It was a part of his life he doesn’t want to look back on. Not like it mattered anyway. It happened, he fucked up. “Doesn’t matter.”

“No.” Arya said sternly. “No Sandor, not this time. I get there are things that happened in your past you don’t want to talk about, I get that you like to keep some things to yourself, but this is not one of those times! You just knocked my Dad out cold. So I kinda feel like I deserve to know what is going on, don’t you?!” Her voice raised over the course of her speech, until her anger and frustration washed over him like a tidal wave.

Sandor closed his eyes in resignation. She was right. Even though this relationship was finished after tonight, she at least deserved to know why it all went tits up. Why her fuck up of a boyfriend assaulted her father. Maybe it’ll even a funny story she can tell future boyfriends.

The thought of Arya with someone else made him sick to his stomach.

“Sandor, please.” Arya spoke again, much softer this time. “Tell me what is going on.”

Sandor took a deep breath, before meeting her eyes. “I had a sister.”

Ayra’s eyebrows flared in confusion, but she stayed silent.

“Not many people know, I try not to talk about her. She was the only Clegane actually worth a damn in our family. She was beautiful and kind. And she took care of me, more then my own father did, even though she was only a few years older than me. She tried to protect me against Gregor, or at least help me out after he went on another one of his rages. And he didn’t like that.”

Sandor looked towards the stars, a sad frown on his face. “After the fucker ruined my face, she was the only one to try and treat my burns. Father was just gonna let me die, too afraid of his own son to do much else. If it wasn’t for her I probably wouldn’t be here. Gregor made her pay for that, and there was nothing I could do to stop it.”

“One day, I came into the kitchen to find her on the ground sobbing, holding her still bleeding face, while Gregor stood over here. She spotted me, her eyes silently asking for help, begging to be saved from this monster in our home. But what did I do?” Sandor chuckled, a bitter smile on his face. “I ran. I ran out the house like a coward. I didn’t come back for days.”

Arya face softened, a dreadful understanding starting to wash over her. “And that’s why you hit my Dad?”

“Yeah.” Sandor nodded, voice quiet. “Seeing you on the ground like that, it’s like I was sent back in time to that day. The last day I ever saw her. The day I couldn’t protect her.

“What happened to her?”

The smile dropped off Sandor’s face, and his eyes turned back towards the earth. “When I came back, she was dead. Was told she tripped down the stairs and broke her neck.” He scoffed and shook his head. “Tried my best you know, to not be him, to protect what I care about. But we Celgene men have had a long lineage of being pieces of shit, shouldn’t have expected myself to be any different.”

“Stop it.” Arya warned, voice nearly a whisper, causing Sandor’s eyes to snap to hers. “Sandor, I know what you’re doing, stop it.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You’re comparing yourself to your brother! As if one mistake puts you anywhere near the same league as him!”

“One mistake? You have no idea who I was when I was younger, what I’ve done!”

“I don’t need to know that Sandor, because I know you!” Arya screamed, silencing Sandor’s deprecations. Arya took a step closer, stepping between his legs and reaching to grip his face in her hands. “I know this Sandor, the Sandor who puts up with me, the Sandor who would never hurt me, the Sandor who loves me, the Sandor who _I_ love. I don’t need to know who you were, because I know who you are.”

“Arya, you don’t--.” Sandor spoke, voice broken.

“Sandor you are not your brother, you are nothing like your brother, and I will fight anyone who says otherwise. I’ll fight my siblings. I’ll fight my parents. Hell, I’ll even fight you if I have to.” Arya promised.

“But your Dad—”

“Will be fine! Yes you attacked him. Yes you messed up. But you were trying to protect me, your brother would never try to protect anyone. And if there is one thing my Dad will understand is the drive to protect his little girls. Sandor Clegane, you are so much better than your brother ever could have been. So please, stop doing this to yourself.” Arya begged, wrapping her arms around his neck and squeezing with all she was worth.

Sandor at first didn’t respond, trying to figure out if this was just a fantasy his brain cooked up to handle the rejection he was no doubt in store for. But then she kissed him on the neck, and squeezed him almost to the point of chocking, and he realized this was real. She was real, and she still loved him. Sandor crushed her to his chest, pulling her as close as he could. He felt moisture on his face but didn’t pay any attention to that. He needed this woman in his arms, he doesn’t know how he’ll survive without her. “Arya, I’m sorry.” He spoke into her hair, kissing her on the temple.

“I forgive you.” She whispered with another squeeze, face tucked into his neck. “But I’m not the one you need to apologize to.”

Sandor squeezed her in return, feeling like his heart had started beating after years of stagnation. This woman was crazy, completely and totally nuts to even comprehend the idea of forgiving him or keeping him in her life. But she had, with no hesitation. He might not trust himself, he might not think he’s better then his brother, but she does. And he’s going to work every day, for as long as she’s insane enough to be around him, to love him, to prove to her that her trust was well founded.

“We should get back inside, it’s fucking cold out here.” Arya shivered, tucking herself further into him to steal his warmth.

Sandor grunted in agreement, already feeling the dread settle in.

Arya smiled encouragingly against his neck, as if reading his mind. “Don’t worry, my Dad is a pretty reasonable guy. He’ll understand.”

___________________

“What are you still doing here?” Ned spoke roughly to Sandor, frozen pack of pees pressed to the left side of his face. He was on the couch flanked on either side by the rest of their family, all of them looking at Sandor with anger and a small bit of fear in their eyes. On the other side of the room stood Arya and Sandor.

“Arya, get away from that man.” Catelyn insisted.

“No Mom, hear him out.” Arya sighed and grabbed onto Sandor’s hand. _Okay, bad start._

“I want to apologize to you.” Sandor explained, squeezing her hand for reassurance.

Her father narrowed his eyes at Sandor, eyes flicking down to their connected hands, before nodding. “Go on.”

“I’m sorry I punched you. I thought you were hurting Arya, but I was wrong, so I apologize.”

Robb scoffed. “Dad hurt Arya? Our Dad would never hurt us.”

“Yes, I’m insulted you would assume that of me Sandor.” Ned agreed with his son.

“Don’t much care how you felt about it.” Sandor shrugged.

“Sandor, stop.” Arya pleaded. _Oh god, this is going far worst then I imagined it would._

“No, Arya let him speak his mind.” Her father encouraged, sarcastically. “Please, Sandor. Do continue.”

“Like I said,” Sandor continued, ignoring the sarcasm. “I saw what I thought was a threat to Arya’s well being and I stopped it. I acted too rashly, and for that I’m sorry.”

“But you don’t apologize for assuming I would strike my own daughter?”

“No, I don’t. I don’t know you, so the only information I had to work with was what I could see, and the situation looked like you were a threat. I’d do the same if I thought any of you were harming her.” Sandor looked pointedly at everyone in the room, the threat clear in his voice.

Ned stared at Sandor while the rest of the room went dead silent. Arya closed her eyes and sighed. _Okay, so that didn’t work. Plan b? Shit, I don’t’ have one. Guess this will be my last family dinner._

Suddenly her Dad stood up. Her Mom tried to pull him back to the couch but he shook his head at her, handing her the makeshift icepack. With a glance at Sandor, she reluctantly released his hand. Her father marched over to stand in front of Sandor, looking up into his eyes, and offered his hand to shake. Sandor and Arya looked at each other in shock, while Sandor slowly reached forward and took her father’s hand.

Her father nodded at Sandor and shook his hand firmly, an understanding smile on his face. “Sandor, while I don’t like the idea of anyone believing I would ever harm my children, I do have to admit the situation would look bad to anyone who didn’t know me. And I also must say how glad I am that Arya is with a man who loves her as clearly you do. So, I accept your apology.”

“Dad, really?” Robb exclaimed, while a choir of objections rang out from their siblings around him.

“Ned I must agree with Robb, how could you forgive something like that?” Catelyn asked, astonishment clear in her voice.

“Because I simply put myself in Sandor’s shoes. If you, Cat, were in danger, would I have acted any differently?” Ned explained, then looked at his wife and smiled. “No, I absolutely would not.”

Catelyn sighed, but smiled in return, the love between the two shining like a beacon in the night. Then with a glance to the other children on the couch his voice regained its fatherly tone. “And I hope all my other children would act the exact same way if the people they loved were in danger.”

Jon and Robb tightened their grips on their lovers, while Bran, Rickon, and Sansa simply nodded at their father’s wisdom.

“Though perhaps having a small bit of caution, to learn the situation first, would also be an appropriate lesson.” Her mother added, looking pointedly at Sandor.

Her father chuckled. “Yes, that as well. Oh, and Sandor.” Her father started, turning back to Sandor. Arya, who’s had never released Sandor’s hand, tightened her grip in anticipation. “Remind me to never get in a fight with you.”

Sandor smiled, a real smile. “I don’t know about that; I just got the jump on you. You could probably hold your own.”

“Now don’t you lie to save an old man’s pride.” Her father laughed, reliving the room of the remaining tension. Arya finally relaxed her grip on Sandor’s hand with the passing crisis, and smiled up at him. He returned her smile with a small one of his own.

“Well.” Catelyn clapped, focusing all attention on her. “Now that _that_ is all water under the bridge, who’s hungry.”

“Oh my god yes, I am starving.” Ygritte yelled dramatically, being matched in enthusiasm by the other members on the couch.

“Well good, that means you all don’t mind helping me get dinner ready then do you?” Catelyn asked with a beguiling smile.

A choir of groans was her only answer.

“Come on now, let’s get started so we can eat sooner rather later.” Catelyn announced, springing up from the couch to lead her reluctant children into the kitchen. Before entering the hall way she stopped, allowing her other children to file past her, and turned to Sandor, Arya, and her father who hadn’t moved. “You three as well, we’ll need all the help we can get.” She looked Sandor right in the eye as she spoke, gesturing to follow her, before turning and walking down the hall.

“That, son, is a good sign.” Ned winked at Sandor before following the path of his wife.

“My mom just invited you to help make dinner.” Arya said in wonder, staring after her mother, as she wrapped her arms around Sandor. “It took my last boyfriend a year to get that far.”

“Doubt it has anything to do with my character.” Sandor dismissed, returning her embrace. “I interrupted the cooking before, gotta help get everything back on schedule.”

“Hm, I wouldn’t be so sure about that. My mom is very particular about who she lets into the kitchen.”

“Really?” Sandor looked down at her, good eyebrow raised.

“Yup, so her inviting you to help must mean you did something right. And my Dad seems to respect you, so I’d say this night wasn’t a complete disaster. What did you think?”

“Well, if we ignore me giving your Dad a black eye, it was okay. Only your sister and Jeyne really seemed to have a problem with me, most everyone else at least looked in the general area of my face.”

“Mhm, not bad.” She smiled gratefully up at him. “Thanks again for dealing with all this Sandor, and while I definitely did not expect the night to go this way, I’m really glad you finally got to meet my family.”

“Thank you for trusting me.” Sandor spoke lowly to her, leaning down to meet her lips with his.

“COME ON YOU TWO, STOP MAKING OUT AND HELP US!” Rickon yelled down the hallway, causing them both to jump. Arya laughed as Sandor growled for being interrupted, before taking his hand and leading him down the hall towards the rest of the family.

“Your family is really fucking loud.” Sandor grumbled.

Arya squeezed his hand. “You get used to it.”


End file.
